Romeo and Juliet, Mediator Style
by BlackMagick
Summary: Verry fluffy story with a Romeo & Juliet theme.
1. Default Chapter

**A/N:** All right. This is set before Twilight, before Haunted too probably. Anyway, I had a random burst of incentive to write something other than Reunion, (which I am working on) so here it is. I hope you like it. Its got some Shakespeare stuff in it, but it's hopefully not that hard to translate.

**Disclaimer:** Thanks to the wonderful Meg Cabot, Jesse and Suze are characters. However, I do not own them. They, as well as all the mediator stuff, are hers. William Shakespeare owns the shakespeare bitts.

Romeo and Juliet, Mediator Style

_How_, I thought as I plopped down on my bed holding a copy of Romeo and Juliet, _is anyone supposed to understand this? I mean, can anyone understand Shakespeare? Or am I just malfunctioning?_

I groaned and attempted to translate the next few lines. To Shakespeare, I am sure this made sense. To me, it means: blah blah blah, blah blah blah.

I kid you not.

I squinted at the page as if it would bring extreme clarity.

Nope. Nothing happened.

I reached across the bed and picked up the phone. I quickly dialed Cee's number and listened anxiously for her voice.

"Hey this is Cee Cee."

"Do you get any of this?"

She sighed. "Suze, I tried to explain it to you. Remember? I spent half of English trying to explain it to you. And how can you not get it? Romeo and Juliet has to be one of the greatest romantic tragedies ever written."

Obviously, whoever came up with that little thesis hasn't heard of my life. And my lack of relationship with Jesse. _That_ is a true tragedy.

She was still talking, "so just, I dunno, try again, okay? I've got to go, but I'll see you tomorrow."

And she hung up.

Great. Even one of my best friends has given up on me.

Even Dock gave up on me. What that happens, you know things are bad.

I stared at the page. Even though it was tecnically English, it seemed like a forign language.

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand

This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:

My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss," saying it out loud doesn't help either. I should know, I've tried many times.

But hey, try try again, right?

"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much," and that was all I got to say because the very tragedy who I wished would play Romeo to my Juliet (the dying part I could do without however…oh wait, he's dead anyway, hmm…what do you think of that Willy Shakespeare?) showed up and looked rather shocked.

"Susannah…are you reading…Shakespeare?" now he looked kind of excited. This was so, so sad.

"Unfortunately," I laid out on my bed, waving the hated copy up in the air.

He walked over and sat next to me, "how can you say that? He's one of the best authors…ever."

I sat up and stared. I blinked once. Twice.

"Please tell me, that you are joking."

He looked annoyed, "Querida, I am not joking. This is, how would you say it? Oh, yes, 'good stuff'."

"Maybe the version with Leonardo De Caprio."

He looked confused and I was like, oh, yah. He doesn't know who that is. Because he died a hundred and fifty years ago. I have to keep reminding myself of this little fact. Otherwise, well, I'd already fallen in love. What else could go wrong?

"Never mind. The point is, I can't even _understand _this. Here," I thrust the copy at him, "you try."

He sighed, "This, I believe is what you were reading," and he began, "If I profane with my unworthiest hand

This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:

My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss," suddenly, I could see what Juliet saw in Romeo. I had no idea what any of that meant, but in Jesse's voice, it didn't matter. Although I doubt Romeo was this good looking. I could get used to this…

"Here, you read the next part," he handed me back the book.

"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much," his brown eyes locked on mine, it was getting a little harder to concentrate, "which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss."

I still had no idea what it meant, but Jesse seemed to know.

He took the book, "Have not saints lips and holy palmers too?" Oh. Wait, they were talking about lips? That must mean kissing. I know what's going on! Romeo loves Juliet! Go me!

He gave me the copy. I was kinda getting into this.

"Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer." He took the copy and I was actually starting to get the hang of this. Juliet was kind of in love with Romeo too. What was so tragic about this?

Oh. The death part.

This was kind of like us. Me and Jesse, I mean. Only I didn't kind of love him. I was completely head over heals in love with him. He just didn't love me back.

"Oh then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do! They pray. Grant thou, lest faith turn to despair," his brown eyes were impossible to read. Does he love me? I wish.

Hey, Romeo was tying to pull moves on Juliet. Does she accept? I hope so…

I read, "Saints do not move, though grant for prayer's sake," this could be a good thing. Romeo wants to kiss Juliet. Can we act that out too?

He read, in a whisper, "Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged."

And he kissed me.

You know what? Shakespeare's not so bad after all.

**A/N:** So, what'd you think? I know, much on the Shakespeare part. But I thought it made a cute one shot. Anyway, press the pretty purple button and review!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Okay, I got so many reviews on the first section of this, that I finally got my butt in gear and wrote a second chapter!

Go me! Woo hoo!

Or…not.

Anyway…here is another chapter. I've decided that this is set after Darkest Hour, maybe sometime in Haunted. I don't really know, just try and roll with it, okay?

And it's very Romeo and Juliet, with out the dying bits. Well, except that it wouldn't really matter for a mediator, now would it?

So no death, possibly.

And it doesn't really follow Romeo and Juliet, does it? But that's okay. And I'll stop rambling now.

Chapter Two

Just as I was really starting to think that Willy Shakespeare was an amazingly cool person, Jesse stopped running his hand along the waistline of my jeans and pulled back.

I almost grabbed his head and dragged him back down, but caught myself at the last minute.

Nice Suze. Really.

But he wouldn't mind that much, would he?

To kiss or not to kiss. That is the question.

Hey! I feel smart…

"And of course, after Romeo and Juliet kiss, the story continues," he said, ignoring what had just happened.

Well does the story continue with a torrid affair? That would be okay by me. He handed me the book.

He was serious? Oookkkaaayyy…this guy gets more jazzed over Willy's book than the prospect of having my tongue in his mouth.

Graphic much Suze?

Still, I knew for a fact that he was straight, otherwise…I would have wondered.

I mean, not that I'm a beauty queen or anything, but you know. He is a guy. They get excited over stuff like that.

Unless they're Jesse. Just my luck. The hottest guy on the planet is the most decent.

"Then have my lips the sin that they have took."

Ohh! Hey, this has a translator part! This could be much better…

Jesse took back the book and I noticed that he was shaking a little bit. I scared him that much?

I'm a girl. Not a…ghost.

Boo!

Shouldn't he scare me? Although if I ever saw Jesse run around in a white sheet, I would freak out. And wonder if ghosts could like, take drugs. Not that he'd do that, but maybe by accident or something…

Nah. Not Jesse.

Back on topic. But it's so hard for me to focus when he's around. My heart does the little flippy thing and especially after he's been kissing me…

"Sin from my lips?" He turned red, how cute! "O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again."

Gladly…but he didn't try to kiss me this time.

So I leaned over and when I was just a few inches from his lips, I kissed his cheek.

Take that.

He turned even redder.

This was so much fun…

"You kiss by the book." According to the translator (why hadn't I found it earlier?) it meant: You kiss in a very proper way!

Yes, including the exclamation point.

Well he wasn't really proper. Not once you got him going anyway…And he doesn't kiss by the book. At least, "not any book I've ever read."

He looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

I said that out loud? Oh, bad Suze. Very bad Suze.

"You know what Susannah?"

Jesse stood up and smiled warily at me.

I think we've had enough Shakespeare for one day.

"What about Gone With the Wind? You could help me translate that. You can play the role of Rhett…" he dematerialized.

Damn. Not that I actually had to read that. But I'm pretty sure my mom has a copy. And I've read it. Well, saw the movie. I mean, I think everyone I know has seen the movie or read the book.

So now it was back to the tragedy of my love life. Or lack thereof. Well, more or less. I mean, I got him to kiss me again…that had to count for something. Ever since that day in the grave yard…he hasn't been ignoring me, per say. Not even avoiding me. Just treating me like a little sister.

It sucks. And I've just about had enough.

Ixnay on that thought. I've had more than enough. And I'm starting to get peeved. Until today, he hadn't so much as attempted to even touch me.

What, did I have leprosy or something?

Not that I knew of.

So what was the big deal? I mean, he didn't love me. But he sure seemed to like kissing me. On the odd occasion that he did. He seemed to like it a whole lot. He was just too much of a gentleman to do anything. Even kiss. He seemed to think it was disrespectful and invasive.

But if I didn't care, was it still invasive?

I wasn't supposed to fall in love with a ghost. My first qualification should be breathes, or : has a pulse.

Damn those hormones.

Still, he was like, off limits. And I had been told that way too many times by Father D and Paul.

Surprise there.

He wasn't convinced that we didn't have a chance.

Paul, not Father D.

Eww…

But I wasn't going to even go there. He was even more off limits than ghosts. Paul, was an asshole.

So I had one guy that was after me, that I didn't want anything to do with. And one guy that I wanted that wouldn't let me get near him, but I'm pretty sure wanted something to do with me.

You can not kiss someone like _that_ and not want anything to do with them. Unless, of course, you are Paul Slater. Apparently then you can do that all you want.

I could totally relate to Juliet. I mean, she was so in love with this guy that was wrong for her in so many ways…and yet she loved him so much. And the guy she should be with, she wants nothing to do with.

Freaky, isn't it? I just hope I don't end up dead. Please God, that would complicate things _so _much more.

I think.

A/N: So what'd you think? Please review! It will be much appreciated. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, I'm updating. **

**Again.**

**Be happy.**

**Or…not.**

**But either way, please review.**

**And, to a request, I have made this chapter have a Jesse POV in it. **

**This is also my attempt at a non-ditzy Suze, because I realized that reviewer was totally right.**

**So, thanks to both of you, you know who you are.**

**But please, bear with me on this chapter, I had NO idea where I was going with it when I started it, and still wondered what the hell I was doing when I finished it.**

Chapter 3

I grumbled to myself as I threw another book on top of the pile inside my locker. I quickly slammed the door, to keep the pile of crap from pouring out onto the ground, and then prayed the thing wouldn't explode.

It had been THREE DAYS since I'd last seen Jesse.

I am not kidding you.

He was pulling the whole disappearing act, and it sucked.

Majorly.

Avoidance, I have found, is a tried and true tactic. It only sucks if you're the one being avoided.

Maybe, I didn't miss him.

Maybe I was _mad_ at him.

I could feel myself starting to get annoyed as I headed toward Father D's office.

Maybe I didn't _care _if I saw him.

Ever AGAIN.

The receptionist told me to go into his office, and as I swung open the door, I realized why I was here during my lunch break.

To ask him if he'd seen Jesse.

Oh.

So maybe I did care.

Just a little bit.

"Susannah, and to what do I owe this visit?"

"What?" I said as I plopped down in the chair in front of his desk, "A person can't just stop by to say hi?"

"Well," he started and I could have sworn he was smirking. There has to be a commandment against that. A priest smirking, I mean, "a person could, however, you Susannah, have a reason, I know you do."

"Are you saying I'm not human?"

Father D blushed and said, "of course I'm not implying that Susannah, I just assumed…"

"Okay, I do have a reason. Have you seen Jesse lately? He hasn't stopped by in a long time…"

"Good. You know it's not healthy to become…attached to a ghost Susannah, especially when you know that he has to move on one day."

This, I knew, was true.

"Still. He's my FRIEND Father D." Unfortunately that was all he seemed to want to be, but I didn't add that part.

"Is there a reason he hasn't come around Susannah? Have you two had a fight?"

He looked at me with that priestly expression and I really, really, really didn't want to lie to him.

But I really, really, really, REALLY didn't want to admit that I'd made out with him either.

So I decided to go around the lie.

"We didn't have a fight, Father D."

Which was true.

"No, I haven't seen him Susannah, but" and that was when I saw the shimmer from the corner of my eye.

I stood up immediately as I saw Jesse's form start to appear. He looked shocked and started to disappear, but I launched myself—literally—at him. He crashed onto the floor, and I hoped that no one heard us.

Well, me. He was dead.

"You, aren't going anywhere Mr."

"Susannah," Father D started, "I thought you two didn't have a fight."

I stood up and smoothed out the wrinkles of my black skirt.

"We didn't. I just wanted him to stay."

I realized, that it wasn't a very lady-like action. Oh well.

I gave Jesse a I've-got-you-now smile and plopped back down in the chair.

"We," I said, "were just talking about you."

"Were you?"

That was Jesse.

"Yah."

My stomach growled really loudly and I felt myself turn a bright shade of magenta.

"Susannah, maybe you should get going," Father D peered at me over his glasses, "your lunch period is almost over, and I have things to do." He smiled kindly at me. I glared at the both of them and stalked out of the office.

Twenty minutes later I was sitting in my English class.

As we read through the part Jesse and I had…acted out…I had to snap myself out of a wistful state, thinking about how nice it was to study with him, instead of with the class.

Yah.

Study.

We can all laugh now, really.

And Juliet didn't have it so bad, really.

I mean, at least her Romeo liked her back.

I was having trouble on that end.

Was I a bad kisser?

I mean, was that why he kept leaving?

I wasn't that bad…was I?

I hoped not. I mean, Paul seemed to like it enough.

Kissing me, I mean. In fact, he tried to get me to do it on every occasion he could. Which really wasn't fair, because I usually ended up kissing him back.

Even though I didn't want too.

When we started anyway…

But Jesse, I have to say, was a WAY better kisser than Paul. On the offside chance he actually did kiss me.

Which wasn't nearly often enough for my liking.

Great, now every time I'm in English, I'm going to think about Jesse. I have enough trouble paying attention as it is.

I guess I must have zoned out, because the next thing I knew, we were being assigned another scene to read, and I was out of my last period class.

Great.

More fun.

I tracked down Adam and demanded a ride, then denied his offer of going to Vegas and getting married.

Cee Cee looked particularly annoyed when he made this request, voicing the fact that "no way would anyone marry you."

Which made him go, "what, you wouldn't marry me Web?"

And her blush and stammer.

By the time Adam dropped me off at my house, I had fully had enough of Jesse's attitude. I'd had lots of time to go over every little thing he's ever done that's pissed me off, and decided that it wasn't cool.

And that I may make him watch some Oprah show on women of the twentieth century, or something of the like.

So when I stomped into my room, really, really mad at him, I was shocked to find him sitting on my window seat, reading _A History of California—what was it before it was a state?_

"What are you doing here?" I blurted out, before realizing that I did actually want him here.

"Did you not want to speak with me Querida?"

"Well, yah, but where were you?"

"Oh," he smirked, "around."

What, did he have another mediator girl he stalked or something?

Oh. God.

What if he did?

What if that was why he kept disappearing.

He was two timing me!

I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!

Wait, be cool.

"Yah, around where?"

I gave him an I-know-what-you-think-I-don't look.

And, to his credit, he looked worried.

"Just merely admiring California Querida."

Did he call her Querida too?

"Whatever," I dropped my backpack and tugged out R & J, "I have homework to do."

I dismissed the idea of him having another mediator girlfriend. It was kind of ridiculous.

"Do you need help?"

I froze. Two ways to go with this…

"Sure, that'd be good. It's more Shakespeare though."

He looked all excited. I hoped it was because of what had happened last time we'd read Shakespeare…

**Jesse's POV**

You. Will. Not. Dishonor. Her.

Repeat to yourself De Silva.

You. Will. Not. Dishonor. Her.

You will dishonor…

No. Don't think that way.

I always had that internal battle with myself when I was around her. I wanted to grab her and kiss her, but my upbringing wouldn't let me do that.

Did she mind when I did though?

She didn't seem too…but what if she did care?

Oh. Dios.

You will not kiss her De Silva.

She handed me the Shakespeare book and I thought about what she had said at the end of our last 'session' about Rhett.

Who was he?

Another one of her beau's?

What wasn't proper in this day and time…

"Querida…who is Rhett?"

"Excuse me?" She blinked up at me, and I could see her thinking. Then she blushed.

"Erm, he was a character in a book I…read one time." I then caught the words, "look like him" and "really not important."

That's when I knew.

I don't know why, or how.

But that's when I knew.

She loved me too.

It hit me, and I immediately thought of the good side of this.

She did like it when I kissed her. I could do it more…

But then again…I was dead.

Which was why all of this was so complicated.

Did I really have to worry about that?

Yes. I did.

She grabbed the book back from me and began to flip through the pages. She leaned against me, and every muscle in my body tightened.

No. You will not touch her…

"This is so boring…isn't there anything more interesting we could do?"

I don't think she really knew what she was saying. There were lots of interesting things I could think of; however, none of them seemed to be proper.

"Shakespeare," I said in a tight voice, "is interesting."

"So not."

She drug out the 'so', making it sound like: suh oh.

She blinked up at me, and I realized again how close we were.

My lips were only a few inches from hers.

I lowered my head, straining to tighten the last few strands of self control I had.

"Yes, it is."

At least, that's what I started to say.

She pressed her lips gently to mine.

I broke.

**Did you like? No like? Review please. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Err, this is a chapter. And it's a fourth one. There's really not much to say about it other than that...it's short and pointless.

But please, read it, and critique or whatever.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Absolutely nothing. Meg Cabot owns this. So please, don't sue, as I obviously am not her.

Chapter 4

I felt him give in.

It hadn't taken much, just one light kiss…which was kind of ego boosting, you know? That a guy like Jesse (okay, granted he was dead so his options _were_ a bit limited) would like being kissed by me that much.

And it certainly wasn't like _I_ didn't like being kissed by _him_…

I ran my hands through his thick hair, and realized that had someone walked in, they would have found me in a compromising position.

To the non-mediator point of view, I was kissing air with one leg wrapped around something invisible.

If Brad found me like this, I'd never live it down.

I thanked God that my door was locked.

I ran a hand over the hard wall of his chest, liking the way I could feel the ridges of his abs through the thin material of his shirt.

I felt his hand start to run itself along the waistline of my Levi's and knew that he'd end it soon.

Because, you know, he's Jesse.

And what we were doing wouldn't exactly be considered proper.

I was right. My love life _is _a tragedy.

Only, unlike Juliet, I didn't have to marry a guy named Paris.

It would sound like I was marrying a country.

Did they have those back then? Countries, I mean. Probably not.

Why was I thinking this when Jesse's kissing me? Why was I thinking anything at all?

I could feel those fireworks exploding in my stomach, right on schedule, and was really, really beginning to like Shakespeare even more than the last time we…ahem, 'studied'.

Much to my chagrin, Jesse tore his lips away from mine and sat up, breathing really hard considering the fact that he didn't have too.

"Su—Su—Susann—Susannah, we shouldn't, I mean, it isn't proper—to be, doing that—not right…"

I have to state, for the record, that I was a little woozy from all the kissing, and shouldn't have been held responsible for my actions. Furthermore, if you were being kissed like that (_quite_ thoroughly and amazingly) you wouldn't want to stop either.

Especially if the guy doing the kissing happens to be the man of your dreams.

So, the fact that I said, "What's not proper?" and dragged his head back down to mine really wasn't my fault, in the scheme of things.

It was hormones.

When in doubt blame those.

Hee hee.

Only, he didn't let me kiss him for long.

He pulled back, much more sober this time, and said, "I think, that we have done quite enough of that for one day."

For one day?

Does that mean we get to do that again tomorrow?

I was still a little bit fuzzy around the edges—if you get what I mean—and just was like, "Sure, okay.

I saw him start to shimmer and immediately snapped out of my hazy state.

"You," I said, grabbing onto his shirt, "are not going anywhere Mr."

He looked shocked, but didn't say anything.

"Why do you keep pulling this disappearing crap on me? It's not helpful, or healthy for this relationship, don't you think?"

He just kind of blinked at me, looking like a poster someone would hang on their wall.

I looked like a before shot on Nip/Tuck.

"Susannah, don't use such vulgar language, it's not proper."

"Jesse," I said, trying not to laugh, "what we did a few minutes ago isn't necessarily considered 'proper'" yes, I made the finger moves, "either."

He turned bright red, and I really had to hold back laughter.

It was so funny, like a six foot four inch red thing.

With black hair.

But that was a technicality.

I tugged at the hem of my t-shirt which read, "A day without SUNSHINE is like, you know, NIGHT."

"Yes, but it was a mis—," he stopped, and his eyes went really, really wide.

He did not.

He soooo did not.

He soooo did.

"A what? A mistake?" I am very sorry to say, that my voice took on high sqeeky sounds.

"That's what that was to you! A mistake?"

He immeadiately tried to cover up, "I didn't mean you were a mistake, but kissing you was a mistake."

He stopped, seeming to realize he'd only dug himself deeper.

"Oh," I sneered, trying not to cry, "well, at least I'm not a mistake."

"I'm a crappy kisser aren't I?"

He looked at me, kind of startled. I wasn't mad for the moment, upset and annoyed, but not mad necessarily.

"It's really that bad to kiss me?" I started to blabber, really trying not to cry, "but I can't be that bad, because you know, Paul doesn't seem to mind doing that. Kissing me, I mean. And he's done it a hell of a lot more than you have," so this wasn't really true, but no one had to know that, "maybe he just has lower standar—," he didn't let me finish.

"HE DID WHAT?"

I kid you not, his voice echoed off my walls, he was screaming so loud.

"HE'S KISSED YOU MULTIPLE TIMES?"

Dude, jealous much?

"Get over yourself Jesse, it's not like you seem to care."

"I CARE VERY MUCH THANK YOU. IT'S NOT PROPER FOR YOUNG LADIES…ESPECIALLY THAT BASTARDO…."

"Could you please stop yelling?"

He was all worked up, and I must say, he looks sexy when he's mad.

Very sexy.

I should annoy him more often.

Although he could ixnay on the yelling.

"I CAN NOT BELIEVE THAT YOU DID THAT, WITH, WITH, WITH SOMEONE WHO WASN'T M…SOMEONE LIKE HIM!"

Was he going to say what I think he was going to say?

Oh. Woah.

No…that would be too good.

Wouldn't it?

He started to dematerialize again.

I grabbed him and he stopped.

Lovely. Back to square one.

A/N: I know, it's short, but I have major writers block, and I really wanted to get SOMETHING up. Even something short and crappy.

Please review. Even if it's just, "you're right. That chapter did suck."

Although, obviously, I would like a nice review.

I'm not _that_ picky, though….


	5. Chapter 5

A/N:

Okay, I'm updating. I finally got my lazy brain in order and wrote another chapter.

Go me.

Erm, not much to say about this chapter, other than there's some of Jesse's POV. So, go me.

Right.

Okay, on with the story.

Jesse's POV

I wanted to leave, because of my near mistake.

I had almost admitted that it made me jealous to hear of Susannah kissing another man.

That it wasn't bad she was kissing someone…just that that someone was not me. (Especially since it was Slater.)

So I was in a most embarrassing situation.

And before, when I'd started to say, for some reason, "Yes, but it was a mistake to stop."

I had meant to say it in Spanish, only that had not worked out so well.

"Someone who wasn't who?"

She said this in a perfectly calm voice, but it did sound a bit strangled.

"No one. It just shouldn't have been Slater. And it's not proper."

"Liar."

I lifted an eyebrow. She was pointing her finger at my face and no longer looked calm.

"Excuse me?"

"You. Lie," she separated the words, to emphasize her point.

I muttered Spanish under my breath.

"Who?" Her green eyes flashed, and I couldn't tell if she was angry or not.

"Mi." I said it quietly and was turning red. I couldn't lie to a lady, but I didn't have to talk loudly.

"English please."

Or in English.

"You'll never know. I said it once Querida, I'm not saying it again."

Suze's POV

The fact that Jesse has started to adjust to the 21st century?

Yah, it sucks.

Because he pulls stuff like this.

I know he knows that I know what he was _really_ going to say.

Why can't he just _say it_?

Men.

They can't commit to anything.

Even the dead ones.

And what do they have to loose?

Not much, that's what.

So I was pretty pissed with Mr. De Silva, but the fact that he called me querida did make me a little less angry.

But just a little.

And the fact that he won't answer me makes me want to believe one of two things.

that he was going to insult me or

that he was actually going to admit to liking (or maybe even loving) me.

Not, that I'm dependent on it or anything. I am a free woman. (As free as any minor can be, anyway.)

I just really, really hope he does.

Love me, I mean.

Is that too much to ask?

And he's dead, so it's not like he's got a whole lot of options. Father D (please God no), Paul (ditto) and myself.

Being the only female, that kind of narrows it down a lot.

Unless he bats for the other team, and I just never noticed.

I sincerely hope that is not the case.

"Say it," I practically had my finger up his nostril by this point, and was leaning toward him.

I couldn't help but add, "You know you want too."

Jesse's POV

She had no idea how hard she hit with that line.

She couldn't have fathomed how badly I wanted to tell her I loved her, and then kiss her. Again, and again, and again….

No De Silva.

She's off limits.

She breathes.

And you will respect her because…

Why, exactly was that again?

I momentarily, as I had on numerous previous occasions, forgotten why exactly I couldn't just kiss her.

Every time she smiled, or her enchanting green eyes would glance my way, or when she sat near me, or, well, almost anytime.

I was, how would they say it? Oh, yes, "whipped."

So when she had that finger in front of my face, wiggling it back and forth, I gave in.

"Me."

Suze's POV

I really didn't think he'd do it.

God knows _I _wouldn't have.

But he did.

I really didn't know what to do.

That's why Jesse got mad when I kissed Paul? Because he was jealous? Because he liked (possibly even loved) me?

I opened my mouth to speak, say something, anything, really, but all that came out was an odd noise.

It was a happy noise, however.

Jesse looked at me strangely and I continued to smile at him.

"Let's practice more of my Shakespeare, shall we?"

Which by now, should have been taken as code for, "let's make out, shall we?"

Only Jesse, sadly, had not figured that out yet.

"Alright Susannah," a smirk played at the corner of his lips, and I started to wonder if he really did know what that was code for.

He picked up the book, began to thumb through it until he found a part that seemed to suit him.

"O speak again bright angel, for thou art

As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,

As is a winged messenger of heaven

Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes

of mortals that fall back to gaze on him

When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds

And sails upon the bosom of the air."

Quite frankly, I had very little idea what that all meant. I think I have mentioned before, that Shakespeare is not exactly my thing. The bright angel part sounded good to me, but why speak again, when I hadn't spoken yet?

Was I missing something, here?

I took the book and began to read from where he'd left off, at least this time I had the translations…

"O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?

Deny thy father and refuse thy name.

And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

I could see where she was coming from, only it was a little different for Jesse and I. What, he pledges his love for me, and I croak for him?

No offence, but I think not. Honestly, there's got to be a better way. Plus, I don't think he'd let me die for him.

Does that mean he loves me?

Or does he just not want a suicide on his hands?

Hmm…

Jesse took back the book.

"Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?"

He was starting to look at me oddly again, like he wanted to know if I meant what I was saying. Only, I really didn't know what I (Shakespeare, really) was saying.

"'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;

Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.

What's Montague? It is nor hand nor foot

Nor arm nor face nor any other part

Belonging to a man. O be some other name."

Okay, I kind of understood this. And it was true. Jesse was dead. So what? It's no biggie for me, I mean, I can see the dead. No problem there, right?

I continued to read the passage.

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose

By any other word would smell as sweet."

Jesse doesn't smell like anything. Unfortunately. Death does that to you.

"So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called,

Retain that dear perfection which he owes

Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,

And for that name, which is no part of thee,

Take all myself."

I wouldn't mind if Jesse traded death for me…that'd be just fine. In case any higher powers want to intervene, or something.

He took the book back, and I watched him read the passage. He really did like this. It was kind of creepy. But whatever floats your boat, eh?

"I take thee at thy word.

Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized:

Henceforth I never will be Romeo."

Tell him I love him?

I do…but Jesse first.

I'm more of a follower on that kind of thing.

He flipped through a few pages in the book, apparently he was sick of that scene.

"And I'll still stay, to have thee forget,

Forgetting any other home but this."

That sounds sweet….sort of.

Goody, translations beith mineith.

Hey, I can do Shakespeare…

"'Tis almost morning. I would have thee gone;

And yet no farther than a wonton's bird,

That lets it hop a little from her hand,

Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gives,

And with a silk thread plucks it back again,

So loving-jealous of his liberty."

Er…Right.

I got that.

"I would I were thy bird."

So far, I have picked up that Jesse wants to be a bird…but that can't be right.

"Sweet," I started, "so would I.

Yet I should kill thee," hard, seeing as he's already dead, "with much cherishing.

Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow

That I shall say good night till it be morrow."

Why was I saying good bye? I wanted him to hang around for a while…

Jesse gently took the book from my hands and set it on the bedspread beside me.

He leaned closer to me, brushed a lock of hair from my face. I stared into the deep chocolate pools of his eyes and felt myself falling…again.

His lips gently touched mine in a…well, loving, kiss, and he pulled back.

I stared up at him.

"Te amo, querida."

And he was gone.

What the hell did 'Te amo' mean?

A/N:

Did you like it? Did you love it? Did you hate it? Do you want to light me on fire ( I really hope not)?

Well, even if your opinion went with none of the above, review anyway.

It makes me happy.

And that makes me write faster...(hint hint)


	6. Chapter 6

A/N:

Look! A bird!

Not really, but there is another chapter.

I'm updating.

Love me, hate me…

There's a fine line, people.

And I would like to thank Dawn for the idea that I used in the beginning of this chapter, I really was stuck, but it gave me something to write about.

Much thanks.

And I would also like to thank my reviewers, for doing just that.

Reviewing, I mean.

And I'll stop being all Oscary now.

I mean accepting the award type Oscar, not the bologna type Oscar (Mayer).

Just incase there was any doubt.

Oh, and p.s. I still have no idea where I'm going with this story. Okay, I lie. I know where I want to _end up_, just not how to _get there_…

Oh, and ignore the Spanish words that are supposed to have accents, my computer won't let me do that.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. That goes for all the chapters. I am not Meg Cabot, nor do I pretend to be.

Chapter Six

I could not believe what I had just admitted to Susannah.

Granted, she could not understand it.

For that, I was thankful.

Why I did not want her to know my true feelings, I did not know…

Oh, yes. The fact that I was currently (and probably would always be) deceased played a key part in that fact.

So I was, 'in the dumps' as she would say.

I walked silently through the hallway of the mission.

Really, I did.

I noticed for the first time, that my footsteps made no sound.

I know, I know. A hundred and fifty years to contemplate this, and I think of it now.

But I really had just noticed.

It was a depressing thought.

Like that I cast no shadow.

That too, was a depressing thought.

Although, it wasn't like I couldn't make sound.

If I concentrated on it, I could.

But otherwise I was…silent.

I lent against a pillar and stomped my foot hard on the ground. As if to prove this to myself.

"Frustrated are we, De Silva?"

Oh. Dios.

My favorite person.

What was he doing here?

Did he not torture me enough elsewhere?

"Slater."

"Ah," he said, coming toward me, "all the way up to one word answers. Good for you."

It took much of my willpower not to slam my fist into his face. That, I knew, would make a very satisfying crunch.

Even if it would not be me making the sound, but rather causing it…

"Do you need something Paul?"

I realized that that was the first time I'd ever called him by his first name.

It was a strange realization.

"No…well, I don't _need_ some_thing_, but I _want_ some_one_..." A smirk trailed across his face.

For a horrifying moment, I thought he was talking about myself.

That only lasted a second though.

Then I realized he was talking about Susannah.

"Leave her alone Slater."

"Four words. Impressive."

"I wasn't aware that it was my grammar you were concerned about."

He gave me a foul look, "I could care less about you, except that your in my way."

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm on my way to see…a friend," he tried not to laugh, "we have a 'study' session…for English. Apparently, she doesn't understand Shakespeare very well, and wants some help with it…"

I could feel the color drain from my face.

And my willpower drain along with it.

Which was when my fist really did land in the middle of his face.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You decked him?"

I had been reading my tombstone, I seem to have a bad habit of that, when Susannah walked up. I stood up off the ground, shaking the fact that I was also under the ground, out of my head.

I furrowed my brow, "decked?"

"Hit."

Oh.

"I didn't hit him that hard."

"He has a black eye Jesse. And he doesn't bruise easily, trust me, I know…" she trailed off and blushed.

"How would you know Querida?"

"What does Tea camo mean?" She blurted out, obviously trying to change the subject.

"Excuse me?"

"Tea camo? What does it mean?"

What in God's name was that girl talking about? Oh…wait.

"Te amo, Susannah."

"Okay, te amo, so what does it mean?"

"Nothing."

"You lie Jesse."

"How do you know Slater doesn't bruise easily?"

"I asked you first."

Suze's POV

Okay, so now I was being a baby.

But whatever.

He really, really didn't need to know how I found that out. That would go over real well.

I could just imagine myself saying it too, "well, you see Jesse, I was making out with him on his bed, and decided that I was in love with you, so I should probably stop. Oh, yah, and Paul Slater's only good quality is that he's a fabulous kisser."

That would go over _real_ well.

"Si, you did."

I smiled, sure that he would just tell me. I mean, how bad could it me? Did it mean, 'you smell bad' or something?

Psh.

It could be worse.

I wouldn't object to it being better, though.

And I really wouldn't appreciate being told that I smell.

Especially by Jesse.

How majorly would that suck?

A lot.

That's how much.

Still, 'you smell like someone farted' would be worse.

Once again 'it could be worse'. You know?

But whatever.

"But," he said, brushing imaginary dirt off his legs, "you get to answer first, as well."

I glared at him.

"I happen to know the answer to both of your questions."

Oh. Not him.

Not now.

Not _ever_.

But _especially_ not now.

I turned to the sound of his voice from behind me.

"And I'll tell you," he said, looking at me, "if you don't hurt me for telling him."

"I can't promise that Paul."

I noticed the really good sized bruise around his left eye. It was all black and icky looking.

Go Jesse.

"Really?" His icy blue eyes bore into mine, "well, I can't promise it won't accidentally slip…like you did, apparently, with your clip at my hou—," only that was all he got out. Not because Jesse went all WWF on him either.

It was because I did.

I slammed my shoulder into his (very hard) stomach, knocking him to the ground. I hoped I left as nice a bruise as Jesse had.

Only I lacked the ghostly strength he had.

So I doubted there would be a mark.

"Suze…I didn't remember you liking it so rough…"

He picked himself up, rubbing his chest where my shoulder had assaulted it.

I glared at him.

"But maybe it's different with De Silva, eh?"

Don't you have to have a license to be this much of an asshole? Seriously.

"What's your deal Paul?"

"Well, I was just going to tell Jesse exactly why it is you know that I don't bruise so easily."

"Yah," I said with a smirk, not realizing I was going to say what I was going to say, "but to do that you'd have to admit that a girl actually stopped kissing you," it took a minute for what I had just said to hit me.

And then I went, oh. No.

Not good.

Because it really wasn't.

I turned around to see Jesse, who was doing an odd combination of looking shocked at me, and then glaring daggers at Paul, and back again.

"Jesse…I wasn't, we weren't…I, he…I…bed…no…shifting, papers, jumped me…loved…stopped, erghfumple," I finally stopped digging myself a deeper hole, and shut up.

"Yah, well, you see, Susie here is an amazing kisser…though I guess you wouldn't know that, would you? I would, though…"

And then I launched myself at him again.

Wasn't this supposed to be Jesse's job? At least I was wearing jeans.

It must be sacrilegious to kill someone near a church.

Fine.

So I wouldn't kill him…

…Just injure him severely.

Paul shoved me off him, and propped me up on my feet, out of the position I'd been above him, attempting to jab my thumb in his eye socket.

Damn.

I missed.

"Can't we talk this out, like mature adults Susie?"

"We can if you stop calling me Susie."

Which, sadly, I was more upset about than anything, really.

Only my mother could do that.

Call me Susie, I mean.

And even then I didn't like it.

But I wasn't going to shove my thumb in her eye socket. I mean, how wrong would that be?

"Fine. I'm sorry. Suze."

"So let's talk."

"If you want to know, te amo means I love you."

And I froze.

I turned around to Jesse and stared.

All the color drained out of his face, before a nice blush settled in instead. He started stammering all over the place.

Well.

If this wasn't a situation that I never would have fathomed.

Paul Slater, had just told me, that my boyfriend loved me…for him.

Which was, odd.

To say the least.

"Really?"

My voice was barely above a whisper.

There was an odd sensation in my stomach, similar to the butterflies I get when he kisses me. When Jesse kisses me, I mean.

He started to stammer more, then abruptly stopped.

And dematerialized.

A/N:

Poor, poor Jesse.

And Paul too, actually.

He has no idea that he just made Suze a very happy person.

For Jesse, I mean.

Hee hee.

REVIEW.

And I shall update…again.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I'm SOOOOOO sorry I took this long. I've just been busy, with school, and everything. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, it ends kind of abruptly, but erm, I'll get the next one up soon, I promise.

Oh, and the little italicized thing at the bottom is from Romeo and Juliet, but I changed a few of the lines around. So, it actually isn't much like it was…but that's okay.

Ikinder 0: He is a bit like cupid, isn't he? Although, I wouldn't tell him that…

Disclaimer: Own nothing. Everything belongs to Meg Cabot, and Willy Shakespeare. Mostly known as William Shakespeare.

Chapter 7

It has been twenty four hours since I've last seen Jesse.

I'm really not surprised.

I mean, I kissed the guy and he disappeared for a week, so, you know. When he—sort of—told me he loved me, it made sense that he would go away.

It didn't mean that I had to like it, though.

Or, be happy with the guy.

Hasn't he figured out by now, that I love him back?

Honestly.

Men.

_Especially_ the dead ones.

After Jesse had left, I just kind of stood there for a while, staring at the spot he had been occupying just nanoseconds earlier.

Paul, unknowingly, had come up behind me, being all, "so, what did Rico do now?"

To which I was only able to smile stupidly and shake my head, before walking out of the cemetery in a semi-dazed state.

I know, it was odd.

But…love makes people do strange things.

And finding out he loves you back? Priceless.

For everything else…

Okay Suze, focus.

So, now, I was finishing up Romeo and Juliet. I had, thank God, actually started to understand it. A little.

So I was flipping through the last few scenes, and thinking that Juliet didn't have it so bad.

She had a guy who loved her, and well, okay, so they were both about to kill themselves, but it did say, 'happy dagger'…so, you know. All's well that ends well.

Maybe not.

But still, so what if Romeo was dead?

I guess she wasn't a mediator.

I would have given anything to have my…boyfriend (if that was the right word) hanging around. Only, you know, he didn't seem to want to be anywhere within the same proximity as myself.

Making this a problem.

The whole, boyfriend/girlfriend thing, I mean.

It's a little hard using only half the equation. There doesn't tend to be a solution. At least, not one that makes sense…

Just as Romeo was finding Juliet 'dead' on the tomb thingy, I decided I'd had way too much of that play for one day, and shut the book.

Leaving me without much of anything to do.

Except, sit and wait for you know who to show up.

Which didn't look like it was going to happen very soon. Why did everything have to be so complex? Honestly. I'm a girl, he's a guy, we're in love—there isn't supposed to be the whole 'ghost' thing thrown in there.

It tends to mix things up a little too much for my liking.

God, my life is such a soap. Seriously. Only, a wee bit more interesting. I would hope, anyway.

Shakespeare, totally could have used me for inspiration.

It would have been a great story.

I wonder if he was a mediator…probably not.

I mean, you think he'd still be hanging around, with them having lost his corpse and everything.

Which, in my opinion, is a difficult thing to do. A dead body isn't something easily misplaced.

I would hope, anyway.

But people seem to do it all the time.

I sighed, and drug myself off my bed, and over to the window seat. It was about eleven at night, from what my clock was saying.

And those, do not lie.

Oh…God. What if he didn't really love me? What if he was avoiding me, just because he didn't love me, but was to nice to tell me?

Oh.

This was sooooo not a good thing.

I mean, if he just waltzed up and was like, "Susannah, I don't love you," I think I would just curl up and die. Seriously. It would be like he had just ripped my heart out, and stomped on it.

Only, I think that would hurt less.

Why did I love him?

I don't know.

I loved everything about him. Just…everything. The little things, the big things, everything.

I even loved the way he annoyed me. I think…

Was that what love was?

I lay on the seat, moonlight hitting my face. It is a lot more pleasant, I have found, to be hit by moon rays than sun beams. Honestly. For one thing, there is no 'moon burn' that I have ever heard of.

But then again, we in Carmel lead a sheltered life.

So, you know.

I lent against the wall, and propped my purple kitty pajama covered legs up on the window cushion, crossed my arms over my chest and just kind of…drifted…for a while.

I guess I must have conked out though, because when I was conscious again, there was another body in my room.

Well, 'body' may have been too…strong a word for it.

Presence, or soul, might have been a better choice in words.

What I'm trying to spit out, is that Mr. De Silva had finally decided to grace me with his presence.

But I don't think he wanted me to know he was there, if the way that he walked over to me, and gently touched the side of my face was any indication. This was not, I knew, something he would have done if I was awake.

I felt his lips gently touch my cheek, and his warm breath in my hair, as he whispered, "Querida".

I kept my eyes shut and only peeked out when he sat down by my feet, staring out at the moon.

He started mumbling to himself in Spanish, and I kind of feared for his sanity.

"You know I love you…" was the first thing I heard him say in English, and he turned to look at me when he said it.

Ah.

So he knew I was up.

"…but it can't be." His voice was quiet, so quiet that I knew I was wrong, and he thought I was still asleep.

The fact that he was right, wasn't registering in my mind. The fact that he had just admitted he loved me, was the only thing I heard in my brain. He'd said it. Jesse, I mean. Jesse had admitted to me, (in English) that he was, in fact, very much in love with me.

Me. Suze Simon.

At least, I hope he was talking about me. And not, Spike, or something. That would be wrong. And depressing.

We could make it work…

He froze, and said, "Susannah?"

Oh. I said that out loud.

Oops.

Oh well. Bite the bullet, eh?

"We could," I sat up, and gently took his hand, liking the way that heat spread from his hand to mine…even if it wasn't real.

Because he had no body heat.

Hell, he didn't have a _body_. Well, technically, he did, but I really didn't want to dig it up. That would be gross, you know?

He stood up quickly, the hand going through the hair at a million miles an hour, his fingers were trembling.

I stood up too, because, really? I'd had enough.

"What," I hissed at him, "is your problem? One minute, you're all, 'Susannah, I love you', and the next your refusing to touch me. What, am I a leper or something?" If this was a cartoon, steam would fully be coming out of my ears right now, and I'd probably be sprouting a nice set of horns too.

He sighed, and walked toward me, taking both of my hands in his.

"It's true. I love you. But…you are…_alive_, Querida, I'm…not."

That was a nice way of putting it.

"So what? It doesn't really make any difference to me, in case you haven't noticed, or something."

He smiled, but it was really more of a grimace, "It doesn't make a difference now, but it will. Very shortly. I can never escort you on a date, I could never take you to this, what is it called? Oh, yes, prom," which was coming up in just a week or two, "we could never get married, never have children…," he paused, contemplating what a shitty life we'd have together. But, at least it would be together.

"Slater," he continued, "was right. It would never work," I could feel a tear fall from my eye. It slowly cascaded down my cheek, and before it could drop off my face, he caught it.

With his lips.

"Don't cry Querida," and then I started bawling.

Because he was right, we could never be together. Only like this. Which wasn't so bad, but it wasn't…well, he wasn't alive.

So I, Susannah Simon, was bawling my eyes out—and probably looking like a total bowser—in front of the man of my dreams.

The bright side of this, was that I was pressed up against his chest, and he had his arms wrapped around me. That brightened me up pretty quick, actually.

"Susannah…I would give anything, everything, just to change that fact." Only it wasn't like he had a whole lot to give up, or anything. I mean, the guy is dead. But, I'm not going to pop his bubble.

I looked up into the dark pools of his eyes, and saw how much he really meant everything he said.

"I know, and…so would I." It was scary, but true.

I plopped down on the window seat, and he sat down next to me. I looked up at him, then dragged his head down with one hand, pressed my lips to his.

It was the first time I'd ever kissed him, not the other way around, and it was nice to know that he didn't mind…if the way he was kissing me back was any indication.

I felt those fireworks go off behind my eyelids, that fire in my stomach…and we were kissing pretty heavily by then…and mostly of the French variety.

But just as I was running my hands over his chest, feeling those deep ridged muscles, he stopped kissing me, and rolled over so that he was laying next to me on the bench. I snuggled up next to him, and we just laid like that for a while. It was, really, really nice.

Later that night, I woke up, still in Jesse's arms. He appeared to be asleep, which was odd, because ghosts don't need to sleep. But, he was as asleep as I'd ever seen someone. In my groggy state, I dismissed it.

Just as I was starting to drift off again I heard this little whisper. It totally sounded like a movie voice, one of those cryptic ones. I swear, that's what I thought it was. Only I thought it was Jesse doing it. But that couldn't be it, he was asleep…

_A pair of star-crossed lovers meet their fate,_

_Whose misadventured piteous overthrows,_

_Doth with his death was the beginning,_

_And with his life, they bury their long lived strife._

I tried to make out the words, but they faded in my mind, like water, trickling out of a closed fist. No matter how hard you try to hang on, it goes away.

But being me, I just buried my head on Jesse's chest, snuggling under the arm he had around me, and slept.

A/N: You like? I hope you.

I'll get the next chapter up A.S.A.P. okay?


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Soooo sorry I took so long to update. And soooo sorry it's short. But, umn, here it is. I hope you like it.**

Thinking back on it, it was a good thing Doc found us.

Could you imagine if it had been, like, Dopey? Or Sleepy? Or my _mother_!

So, once again: it's a good thing that it was Doc.

And I really need to remember to call him Dave.

For once, I was thankful to be woken up early on a Sunday morning by my short, red-headed step brother, who at seven a.m (Andy wanted everyone at the table by seven thirty) goes, "Suze, wake up, breakfast'll be ready in half an…who…what are you doing?"

I moved a bit from my position under Jesse's arm, and eyes still closed went, "sleeping, be up later."

"No, I mean…why…what…," and that was when I realized that the nice hard chest my head was resting on…yeah. It belonged to a ghost. So, to his P.O.V., I was leaning on nothing at a rather odd angle.

Ohy.

I got up, and Jesse didn't move, just kind of let out a strange noise and shifted on the window seat.

Great. I've got a lot of explaining to do.

"I was…erm, wind…leaning on…I wasn't leaning on…yoga" and then Jesse rolled off the window seat, finally waking himself up.

At least Doc hadn't seen that.

"Who's he?"

I rolled my eyes, "Jesse," and then kind of looked at him weird. Doc, I mean. I turned slowly and blinked at Jesse, then back at Doc, then Jesse and back again.

"You…you can see him?" I sounded, I realized, like Jesse when I'd first met him. Minus the nombre de dios, though.

Doc blinked behind his glasses, "yes."

"_You're a mediator_?"

"A what?"

"Mediator," I repeated.

"No, I don't see the dead. Although, from my calculations, you do."

An odd look crossed over his face, "Suze…is that…the ghost that haunts your room?"

Jesse stood up, looking kind of ashamed. I reached back and took his hand, dragging him up closer to Doc.

"Touch him."

Jesse obliged and went to wave his hand through Doc's –David's—shoulder; only…it didn't work.

Just like a hand normally would. Or any solid object, actually.

I took two fingers, and felt for his pulse in the neck.

I just about passed out when there was a steady, _thump, thump, thump_, beneath my fingers.

Oh. My. God.

He'd actually been _asleep_ last night. For the first time, in a hundred and fifty years, he'd _slept_.

No wonder he didn't want to get up this morning…

"This is a most awkward situation…" he obviously hadn't gotten it yet. That he was alive, I mean. Otherwise, he would not be sitting there, talking about awkward situations.

I suppose it wasn't the best thing to do, but I pulled Doc inside my room, shut the door…and dialed Paul's number.

"Hello?" He sounded all groggy, and I realized that normal people are still sleeping at this time on a Sunday.

"Hey, Paul, it's Suze."

"What the hell? Suze…why are you calling me? At…" there was a pause, "seven A.M? Normal people are sleeping, Suze. Not that I don't love hearing from you…wait, you finally dump De Silva, or something?"

"Die." I responded, ever so sweetly, before going, "do you know anything about ghosts coming back to life? Or does your grandfather?"

"This may," he said, "come as a shock to you, but I don't. And I'm pretty sure it's impossible. So, like, give it up."

"No, he's erm, well, you know…"

"A eunuch?"

I rolled my eyes, "you're a moron, no, alive."

There was a silence, "_what?_"

"I don't know how…but, erm, yah. Very much living and breathing."

I turned to look at Doc and Jesse who were very confused, and just kind of looking at each other like, 'whatever'.

Then Jesse turned and kind of stared into the large mirror that was on my wall. Just kind of zoned out, or whatever. Then his head kind of tilted to the right, and his eyes got really big.

"Nombre de dios! Susannah! I'm…reflecting," no? Really? Never would have guessed.

"He's alive? Suze, what did you do?" Oh, yah. Paul.

"Nothing! I swear. Look…I've got to go," and I hung up the phone, cutting off the list of profanities sprouting out of the receiver.

I had to get him out of here. If my mom—or Andy—caught me with a guy up here, I was soooo dead meat.

"You…I don't know. Uh…Father D. We'll talk to him, okay?" Brain…not functioning…too early for this kind of stuff.

Not that I wasn't happy and all, but he couldn't have become alive at oh, say, noon? When I was fully awake?

Eh. Life's tough, get a helmet.

"Okay," I started, then paused, "Doc, can you tell Andy I'm coming, and I'll get Jesse out of here."

I walked over to my window seat and propped open the window. When all else fails, go out the second story window.

I practically shoved Jesse out the window, and told him to go to Father D, and that I'd talk to him later.

At the moment, I needed to talk to the one person who might have an answer.

Even if he did spend most of his time drooling in front of the television.

Okay Dr. Slaski, here I come.

**A/N: Once again, I'm so sorry that I took so long to update, and I'm sorry it's short, but I've had such writers block for this chapter. Anyway, review, and I'll update soon(er).**

**---Koizak**


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm so sorry it's been forever since I've updated. This is the last chapter! I hope you like it, I really didn't know how to end it…but I tried. So read, review and enjoy!**

Chapter 9

I pulled into Paul's gargantuan driveway, shivering as I stared up at the huge glass house. The place gave me the same cold feeling that the Shadowland did…the same feeling Paul did.

I crossed my fingers and rang the doorbell. Mark—Slaski's attendant—opened the door.

"Suze! What a surprise! Paul's not here right now…"

I cut him off, "I'm not here to see Paul, actually, I'm here to talk to Mr. Slater."

Mark gave me a blank look, and I realized that your typical teenage girl did not visit other people's grandfathers without a reason. Well, I wasn't a typical teenage girl. I was a mediator.

…But I didn't really want him to know that…

"I'm doing an interview with some of Carmel's senior citizens for our school newspaper. We want to know what they think of the recent changes in our community, and how the town has changed over time," I flashed him my attempt at a 100 watt smile.

"Oh, how wonderful, I'm sure he'll love the company, come on in."

God I'm good.

I followed Mark down the hall, around some corners and finally he stopped in front of a door I had come to recognize, knocking firmly.

"Dr. Slater? Are you awake? You have a guest…" he pushed open the door.

Slaski was, as expected, drooling in front of the television. If he was surprised to see me, he didn't show it. But he didn't ever really express emotion. At least, not when other people could see him. For some reason, I didn't fit in that category.

"Can I get you a glass of water, or a soda Suze?" Wonderful. I needed him out of the room.

"Water would be great, thanks."

"And you Mr. Slater?"

He drooled in response.

Mark left the room and Slaski dropped the geriatric facade.

"Okay, I know you have something to do with this, or at least know what's going on, so would you do me a favor and go straight to the point? Mark is coming back any minute now."

"If you're refereeing to the fact that ghost boy is now alive, I had nothing to do with it."

I raised my eyebrow at him, "am I supposed to believe you have no idea how this happened?"

He frowned at me and wrinkled his forehead even more (if that was possible).

"I didn't say I knew _nothing_ about it, just that I didn't have anything to do with it. I've only heard about one case of a ghost coming back to life, and that was years ago. Before I was born. And let me tell you girlie, that was a _long_ time ago."

"So? How'd it happen?"

He smiled. Not a nice, sweet, old person smile either. But a rather malicious looking smile, so it caught me off guard when he said, "true love."

I gave a snort. What? You wouldn't have? It was pretty corny.

He continued, no longer looking at me, but out the enormous glass window with its million dollar view of the sea, "well…the ultimate sacrifice, more precisely. You would have given up everything for him. Your future, a life with someone alive…you know, the easy way out. Sometimes, things…intervene."

"Things?"

"I don't know. Why do you care anyway? Go be all lovey-dovey. You should just be happy that he's alive…"

And then Mark came in.

2 Months Later

I never did find out more about why Jesse had come alive. Paul didn't know, Father D didn't know, and if Slaski knew, he wasn't talking.

And you know? I'm not sure I even cared how it happened. I still wasn't to keen on the idea that there was some higher power messing around in my life, but hey, beggars can't be choosers.

I looked to my left and down toward the water. On a day like this, I didn't want to think about all the technical details. Adam was attempting to teach Jesse how to surf. Considering Adam doesn't know how to surf, they weren't making a whole lot of progress.

"So, how do you do that again?" Jesse looked over at Adam.

"Well, you just sort of…swing your leg up and you know, stand. Go on, try it." Adam gave Jesse an excited look.

Poor, poor Jesse.

Even though this kind of thing was a fairly regular scene, it still got to me. The feeling of being able to watch him be with my friends. Watching him have a normal summer vacation for the first time in over a century and a half. And the fact that college was going to start in the fall—for both of us.

_That _was a scary thought. He was going into his first year of med school. I was going to my first year of Community College. I had no idea what I wanted to be, but for now, I'd be near him, and that was all that mattered.

I got up out of the sand and brushed myself off, heading for Jesse.

"Are we getting anywhere?"

Adam gave me a look, "he's a bad student."

I grinned at him, "I think you're a bad teacher. He learns just fine." I grabbed Jesse's hand and tugged him toward the water. He followed me, laughing.

Adam trudged over to Cee Cee who had begun to shout at me for abandoning her from our (well, considering she couldn't) my tanning spot.

Jesse reached down and lifted my chin in his hand, smiling down at me. It really would have been a perfect moment, the sunset, the ocean….but, the seagulls.

I _hate _seagulls. If you live anywhere near an ocean in California, you hate them too. They poop on you, steal your lunch—I was cut off from my seagull thought pattern when his lips brushed mine. And I decided that (even with the seagulls) life, was just about perfect.

**I really hope that you liked it! And once again, I'm sooooooooo sorry I took so long to update. **


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